Building The Bridge - 5. Chapter 5 - Through Fields of Gold

It had been a super human effort and dogged determination that had seen the damage caused by the rampaging elephant corrected without impacting on or affecting an already tight schedule for the team in Victoria Falls.

The first day after the incident, everyone had contributed to the clean up efforts, abandoning whatever else they’d been working on to concentrate on clearing up the mess. Once the initial chaos had been cleared away, Colin had appointed a small team of workers to repair or replace any of the damaged structures within the store yard.

Additional supplies had been ordered to replace the stock lost as a result of the incident and the saw mill had increased its output for a few days to replace the timber damaged by the rampaging bull elephant.

The beast itself had been butchered, much of the meat being hung to cure. It was no small feat in itself as an adult male elephant is not a small animal. Its skin, a thick, tough leather was not easy to cut through and it had taken hours of effort to skin the creature well enough to access the meat below. The ivory tusks, each a full three metres in length were removed and locked in storage in the store house, and the remaining carcase of the beast had been carted in pieces to the escarpment and dropped into the gorge below where crocodiles and other scavengers would feast on the remains.

Work on the station at Victoria Falls had continued, and the two raised concrete platforms had been laid, one of these shorter than planned due to the lack of cement after the elephant fiasco. A full station hall had been built and completed and it would be a few days before the track layers snaking their way northwards would join the waiting station to the growing list of stops along the Cape to Cairo Red Line.

That link up would see the arrival of the very first train to Victoria Falls bringing with it the scores of people that would make this camp their home while the work was underway. The men, women and children that would choose to make Victoria Falls their home, the workers, engineers and builders whose job it was to join north to south via the steel bridge.

As the artery of life drew closer, cutting its way through virgin territory connecting cities to towns, towns to outposts, outposts to settlements, twilight was drawing in on the man standing on the new platform gazing south towards the beating heart of progress. Colin knew that the sun sliding towards the horizon not only signalled the end of this day, but marked the end of his time as the master of this settlement. The arrival of the railway line would bring with it Mr Townsend his own boss and the big wigs from the British South Africa Company. It would bring with it a whole new sense of urgency, a new set of challenges, demands and expectations.

He kicked at a twig on the platform as he contemplated the changes coming his way. He was excited yet disappointed. The thrill of being a part of this endless march of progress made Colin very proud and it had presented him with opportunities he’d never dreamed possible. Yet he was sad that soon he would have to share this beautiful spot with a world of gawking travellers. Selfishly he wished he could keep it all to himself.

He sighed and decided he was done for the day. It was time to head back to his cabin, eat, take pleasure and then rest. He turned and made his way out of the station and down the steps to the waiting horses. Untying Blaze, he mounted his gelding and trotted over to where Simba was working with a small gang of men putting the finishing touches to a perimeter fence.

“You nearly finished Simba?” Colin asked.

“Yes Sah,” Simba said, standing up. “It will be finished today Sah.”

“Good,” Colin nodded looking around him. “Tomorrow we focus on the Genny.”

“Ah yes Sah, I have checked that everything is ready earlier Sah,” Simba replied.

“Good, right I’ll see you in the morning boy,” Colin turned and made off for his cabin leaving Simba and the labourers to finish their work.

Arriving back at the stables he left Blaze with a stable boy and strode over to his cabin. He sat down on the verandah steps and took off his boots and thick stockings, stretching his legs out, enjoying the cool air blowing over his bare feet.

“Nyasha,” he called.

There was a scurry inside the cabin and Nyasha appeared from the doorway, “Evening boss, how are you?” he asked approaching Colin.

“Tired,” said Colin. “Get me a drink and a cigar boy.”

Nyasha darted back into the cabin and returned with a bottle of whisky with a tumbler and a box of cigars. He handed Colin the glass and placed the box of cigars on the step next to him. He then corked the whisky and poured a strong measure of the golden liquid into Colin’s glass.

Colin took a healthy swig, swirling the amber nectar around in his mouth before swallowing. He sighed satisfactorily and kicked his feet out and leant back on his elbows. Taking the cigar in his hands, he rolled it slowly, examining it carefully, then licked its length, before popping it into his mouth and reaching into his pocket for his matches. He lit up in a cloud of pungent smoke and puffed at the leafy rod in his mouth savouring the bitter flavour that mixed in with the richness of the whisky.

“Give those a brush Nyasha,” he said gesturing at his boots sitting on the step next to him.

Nyasha sprung up and bolted into the cabin, returning with a tin of wax polish, a cloth and a buffing brush and set about applying a film of wax to Colin’s boots and then honing this into a proud shine. As he worked Colin sat smoking, admiring the young man’s body before him. Nyasha was only twenty one and had been with Colin since he’d first started working for Rhodesia Railways.

In that time, their relationship had developed into a complex mixture of servitude and companionship that brought these two men together in a strange union. It couldn’t be called love, it was more a matter of dominance and the fact that Colin’s will, his desire prevailed over Nyasha in every way.

As he sat there stretched out across the verandah watching Nyasha’s tall lithe body shudder as he buffed Colin’s boots, he felt a stirring in his loins. Colin let his eyes roam over Nyasha’s body which was clad in a pair of karki shorts, admiring the rippling muscles of his back and the firm roundness of his buttocks as he squatted to clean the shoes.

Nyasha had always been able to inflame the lust within Colin, and he felt it rising now, as slowly his erection began to fill out his work trousers. He could feel his testicles tighten up as the tingling sensation of wanton desire rose up in his belly, and his mind began playing out visions of him taking Nyasha forcefully.

Nyasha finished cleaning the boots, and rose up, picking up the polish and tools along with the boots and made his way into the cabin where he put the boots at the foot of Colin’s bed and put the polish and brush back in the cabinet in the kitchen. He leaded his head out of the doorway and told Colin that he would be in the kitchen preparing food.

Colin relaxed on the verandah enjoying his cigar but the hardness with his trousers did not resolve itself, and eventually he couldn’t stand the urge any longer. He sat up and in one swallow gulped down the remainder of his whisky. He smacked his lips and got to his feet, walking into the house as he unbuttoned his shirt. He walked over to his bed where he proceeded to undress, until he was completely naked, his lengthy hard member standing out at right angles to his body.

At thirty eight, Colin had a fine body. He was not a tall man, standing probably around five foot nine, with short sandy coloured hair. He had a strong square cut jaw and dark brown eyes. A light moustache graced his top lip. His body was chiselled, years of labour had defined each muscle, his chest, lower stomach and legs all dusted with a fine blonde fuzz. What he might have lacked in height he made up for in length, his manhood stretching out proudly before him. He was very well endowed, and it was something that he had always felt made him a real man.

Now in his heightened state of sexual arousal, his penis pulsed, a long line of clear pre cum dripped from the tip of his bulbous head, his testicles hanging low between his legs. He quietly padded into the kitchen where Nyasha stood working at the counter preparing a salad.

Colin’s fingers locked into the tight curls of Nyasha’s hair, pulling the boy viciously backwards into him. The boy was taken off balance and staggered as he reeled in reverse crashing into Colin’s chest. Colin wrapped his arm around the boy’s body, trapping him, while pulling his head backwards.

He leaned down and began to roughly kiss Nyasha full on the lips, his tongue forcing its way into the warmness of Nyahsa’s mouth, exploring his teeth and tangling with his tongue. Colin felt the vibration of a moan erupt from deep within Nyasha as he protested against the pain coming from his head where Colin continued to tug his hair backwards. The sensation added to his pleasure, making him hungry for the body he held.

He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on Nyasha’s body at the same time yanking down hard on his hair pulling the boy to his knees as he cried out. Colin spun around and dragged the struggling body of the boy behind him as he stormed out of the kitchen into the dining room. With a massive heave, he propelled Nyasha upwards, lifting the boy off his feet to crash down into the table, tin plates, cups and cutlery flying in all directions.

Colin stepped forward and slammed the quivering body down across the table, ripping at the shorts that feebly clung to his hips. Thrusting them down to expose the naked flesh below, Colin coated a finger with saliva and reached down where the slick digit slipped between the mounds of the boy’s buttocks into the hot cavity of his anal canal.

Nyasha did not cry out as the finger burnt its way into his anus. He’d learnt many years before that crying out only made it worse, and inflamed his lover even more. He merely closed his eyes and let events take their course.

Colin quickly tired of finger fucking the boy, and stood back and admired the rear of the lad. He could not deny that the allure of sex with this boy was infectious to him. He couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to be in him. He spat on his hand and rubbed the saliva onto his hardened maleness. He lined himself up and in one furious stroke sunk himself deep into the body under him.

He grunted in satisfaction as he heard Nyasha gasp out. No cry, no resistance, but the gasp still told him that he’d inflicted pain on the boy and this was his fuel. Energised by the tell tale sign of his dominance, he began to thrust himself in and out of the love canal he had forced himself into. His hunger was manic, his tempo fast, urgent and regular. He thumped himself into Nyasha, driving himself to the frenzy of climax. He cried out as a powerful orgasm overtook him, shuddering as he emptied himself deep within the warmth of Nyasha’s body.

Collapsing onto the quiet, trembling body lying on the table, he kissed the sweaty neck of the boy.

“You are an amazing lover,” he said quietly.

Nyasha didn’t reply. He remained still, his semen flowing down his legs from where he’d blasted as he’d reached his own climax. Colin stood up, pulling out of the boy, and made his way to the bedroom where he pulled on a pair of shorts and returned to the verandah where once more he sat down and relit his cigar.

Nyasha slipped off the table and sat on the floor, breathing deeply, recovering the strength to open his eyes and survey the scene of confusion around him. He reached out for a plate and took it in his hands, staring blankly at it. This was not something new to Nyasha. He’d become used to his masters wicked needs, and had learnt to take pleasure from both the quiet, passionate love making that happened at night, to the wild, furious taking of pleasure when Colin was inflamed by his lust.

This was his place, and for Nyasha the mere fact that he gave pleasure to his master brought contentment to his life. It offered him purpose, and a sense of identity. Although he was sure no one from his family or village would understand it, he needed Colin just as much as Colin needed him.

………………………………..

When it is hot in Beira it is the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. It has been a common practice since the port was inhabited by the colonials in 1890 to break from work through the afternoon heat, and return again when it cooled down in the evening.

Development of the Port of Beira had been of major importance to the Portuguese government of Mozambique and concentrated efforts had been made to modernise and open up the city to become an important trade route for the British Colonialists who were land locked in Rhodesia and Nyasaland. With the completion of the railway line linking Salisbury and Beira in 1898 and the new pier completed in 1900, shipping and freight was quickly making Beira into an important trade route into Southern Africa.

It’d been five long arduous weeks of sailing since the S.S. Cromwell had departed Sunderland, but she’d arrived intact with her vital cargo of both steel girders and human skilled workers on the 2^nd September 1904. It was just over five weeks since Jacob had watched his Ma and Da leave the port, five weeks of hell and high waters.

Shortly after his parents had departed, Captain Ash had taken young Jacob under his wing, taking him around the ship, checking on the various duties that the merchant seamen on board the vessel were tasked to. He’d quickly been given tasks that would fill his time, and in essence leave him little opportunity to mourn the departure of his family.

He’d run over the storage of the cargo, checking that each section of the bridge was correctly accounted for and secured, and then had gone with the captain to discuss the route they would take on the journey southwards. They’d eaten well, and the whole crew had spent time talking with the boy, getting to know him while making him feel welcome.

That night he’d slept soundly, a mixture of exhaustion from the emotional ups and downs of his day, the mental taxation of his afternoon with the captain and the good sea air. The following morning he’d woken quite late, the ships cook finally banging on his door to announce that breakfast was ready and being served. Jacob had dressed smartly, knowing that the company bosses would be arriving this morning and wanting to set a good impression.

He’d watched in fascination as the final section of the bridge was hoisted high into the air by the dock side crane and lowered into the hold of the ship to be secured firmly in place, the final piece of the jigsaw of metal parts that were now the sole responsibility of the captain and his crew. He’d watched as stores and supplies were loaded onto the ship, either being carried up the gang way by able seamen or swung on board packed on wooden pallets. Everything was covered in rope netting, a fact he’d learn was to do with safety and enforced as a measure to stop any breakaway pieces of cargo falling onto the men or ships below.

As passengers had arrived, he’d watched closely, trying to recognise who was who. He easily identified members of the work force from the factory who were joining the expedition as steel fitters and fabricators. Then there was the engineering staff whom he’d seen in passing at the factory but was still not completely certain as to who each individual was. There was as steady stream of passengers all through the day, some taking time to stand with their families and say a long good bye, others arriving alone and proceeding to their quarters immediately.

Most people soon made it out onto the deck and stood in fascination watching the hustle and bustle of the docks. Ships were coming and going around them, a non stop flow of cargo and transport buzzed around the quay side bringing and taking all manner of cargoes too and from the ships.

It was among all this hubbub of activity that they’d arrived, a family of five, father, mother, two sons and a babe in arms. It was unusual in that it was the only family that Jacob had seen arrive to board the ship, and it was further unusual in that they were all dressed in what could only be described as European wear. Smart, sophisticated and sheik, it appeared to Jacob that the family were either French or Italian based on their style of dress.

He didn’t know much about these things, but he’d seen a fair few European engineers and tradesmen in Darlington, and he felt pretty sure he’d not be far wrong. However, it wasn’t even the fact that it was a European family that was boarding the ship that had grabbed at Jacob’s attention, no it was the fact that the one son, who must have been quite close to Jacob’s age was startlingly attractive.

Jacob had never before felt these feelings he was suddenly experiencing, and he suddenly became very flushed in the face as he realised he had started to stiffen in his britches. He turned, dragging his eyes from the boy climbing the gang way and forced himself to watch a ship slowly departing from the harbour.

What the devil was going on? This was a boy climbing to the deck of the ship and he was hard as a steel rod in his trousers. Surely this wasn’t right! He turned and snuck another look at the boy as he stepped onto the deck and awaited his mother and father following him.

As he fixed his eyes on him Jacob could think of no word to adequately describe this boy other than to say he was beautiful. He had long flowing brown hair, trapped back off of his face by a flat cap which he wore slightly to the side. He had thick bushy eye brows riding high over big brown eyes. His rounded face and chubby cheeks dimpled in the most alluring way when he smiled.

He was short, maybe five feet five tall. He had a thin frame that carried his elegant clothing well. Unlike his younger brother who was bounding around excitedly, the boy was quietly observant, carefully examining his surroundings, smiling when he was noticed and nodding his head in greeting when spoken too. As the boy scanned the deck, his eyes flicked across Jacob, instantly flashing back to lock eyes with the English boy. They stared at one another for a couple of moments and then the European lad inclined his head slightly to one side, smirking gently. Jacob instantly felt his cheeks colour an even deeper shade of crimson, and promptly turned on his heel and escaped into the midships, making his way to his cabin where he parked his bottom on his bunk and pondered what was happening to him.

Jacob remained in his room thoughtful for an unknown passage of time, when a loud knock on his door startled him to his feet.

“Yes,” he called out, wondering who would want him.

The door swung open and First Officer Grimshaw ducked his head into the cabin.

“Master Cummins we have a guest for you to share your cabin with,” he said turning to welcome a body into the cabin. A bolt of horror shot through Jacob as he saw the boy from the deck stepping through the doorway into the cabin.

“This is Philippe Imbault,” said Officer Grimshaw introducing the young man. “His family have taken a four birth cabin down the way, and Master Imbault is in need of a bed of his own I fear, so I thought he’d do well bunking with you Master Cummins.”

Jacob gulped, fighting an internal desire to turn and run out the door and escape. He nervously stepped forward and reached out a trembling hand.

“I’m Jacob,” he said. “Jacob Cummins”

Philippe grabbed his hand enthusiastically and shook it smiling. “Hello, I am Philippe,” he responded in a thick French accent. “I think it is good we share a room?”

Jacob nodded dumbly, and First Officer Grimshaw smiled in approval. “Well, that’s all sorted then lads,” he said heaving a trunk single handed into the room. “Now you get to know each other and be in the dinning room by one pm for lunch now you hear?”

Jacob nodded his head as he slowly lowered himself to sit on his bunk.

“Oui, that is fine,” Philippe agreed.

Officer Grimshaw stepped out of the cabin closing the door behind him, leaving the two boys alone in the room. Philippe looked around him, smiled at Jacob and went to sit down on the bunk opposite him.

“You are sailing to Africa also?” he asked.

Jacob nodded his head.

“Ah good, I am glad I shall not have to make this journey alone.” Philippe said smiling cheerfully.

“Why are you going to Africa?” Jacob asked.

“My Papa is building a bridge,” Philippe replied.

Jacob felt a little foolish. Everybody on board this ship was in some way related to building the bridge, but what he did not understand was why this man was bringing his whole family along with him to build the bridge.

Once more he was struck by the beauty of the boy he was looking at. Now that he was even closer to him, he could see that he had slightly nicked himself where he had shaved earlier in the day. His skin a pale pink looked soft and delicate, his lips were rosy and his cheeks a healthy flush. His hair was neatly combed and his eyes sparkled with an inquisitive glow.

“I see,” said Jacob. “I am working on building the bridge too.”

Philippe seemed surprised. “Wow, I did not expect to see someone so young working for this bridge,” he said.

“I’m nineteen,” Jacob said defensively.

“Oh,” said Philippe. “You seemed younger. I am sorry I didn’t guess you were this age.”

“Well, yes, I have been a steel worker since I was sixteen,” said Jacob, “so I am very familiar with construction.”

“You are lucky. Unlike me you will be admired by my father. He is a construction engineer,” said Philippe. “I am only seventeen and still expected to finish my education!”

Things began to fall into place in Jacob’s mind. He’d heard that the Chief Engineer for the project was a Frenchman, and it seemed no small coincidence that Philippe was French and his father was a construction engineer. If this was the case, then Philippe’s father would be his boss for the foreseeable future.

“Why have you come with your father if you are to complete your schooling?” Jacob asked.

“Well, my mother is ill, and it was advised that she should move to a warmer climate for her health,” Philippe explained. “My father is to find a suitable school for my brother and I to attend when we have settled and we shall become boarding students.”

“Wow, are you not scared,” asked Jacob.

“Non,” Philippe replied simply.

“Gosh you are braver than I would be,” said Jacob shaking his head.

“I think of it as an adventure,” Philippe said smiling.

The boys had remained in their cabin, suddenly caught up in the moment of discovering about each other. As it turned out, they quickly established a camaraderie both excited about the prospects of this journey, both young men sharing similar interests.

After lunch they’d lazed around on the forward deck of the ship, talking about family, home, school and all manner of things that young men do. The more Jacob got to know of the handsome Philippe, the more smitten he was by the boy. He truly was an amazingly good looking young man, and had a strong, quiet nature that blended well with Jacobs. Although he did not fully understand his feelings towards this young lad, Jacob was contented that at least for now he had someone to share this adventure with.

The following day, exactly on schedule, the anchor ropes had been slipped off their moorings, and the S.S. Cromwell had slipped out of port and into the English Channel. The long voyage south was finally underway, and the hell that awaited Jacob had just begun. No sooner had the ship hit open water than the queasiness of sea sickness had hit to young man.

As the rolling motion of the vessel had become more pronounced, so too did the sensation grow worse, and pretty soon Jacob was confined to his cabin where he was constantly ill. He had no appetite for food at all, and struggled to even keep water down. He had thought that Philippe would promptly move out of their cabin, but was surprised to find that the boy stayed with him, quietly tending to him, and sitting on his bed rubbing his back while he lay quietly fighting the urge to retch out his guts.

Initially it had taken about a week before Jacob had begun to find his sea legs. For a period of time he was able to endure eating and living a somewhat subdued lifestyle, careful to avoid anything that would set off his sickness once more. It was into the third week that the ship entered into rough weather, and the chaotic pitch and roll of the ship set off another bout of illness, that confined Jacob to his cabin for yet another six days of the voyage.

Things settled down again for the next part of their passage, but when the ship had rounded the Cape of Good Hope, where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean, a mighty storm had battered the ship for days. As they’d struggled on, they’d abandoned any hope of landing at Cape Town, deciding instead to push on through the storm and dock at Durban where they could take on fresh supplies for the final push to Beira.

Through the storm Jacob was once more confined to his room, and never quite fully recovered his seaworthiness after the battering he took. Delayed so much by the storm, the captain had been forced to steam on directly through for Beira in order to maintain his schedule. As it was he expected he’d be arriving a day late, and he could ill afford any further delays by putting into port in Durban as suggested.

Throughout the entire voyage Philippe had endured the worst right at Jacob’s side. He’d endeared himself to the English lad in so many ways. They had become inseparable, being seen constantly together, Philippe caring for Jacob in every way during his bouts of sickness, and being a friend, companion and confidante at every other moment of their journey.

The alliance that had formed between the boys was not missed by others on the voyage, especially Philippe’s family. His mother and father had seen a fantastic change in their son, as he’d matured and taken on responsibility for another so willingly and completely. Without shame or complaint he’d looked after Jacob, and it warmed his parent’s hearts that their son was so kind and compassionate.

So it was that five weeks from the date of their departure, two young European gentlemen had stepped off the S.S. Cromwell and set foot on African soil for the first time. A weaker, thinner more fragile Jacob had been affected almost immediately by the heat. Under the direction of the captain he was taken to a mission hospital in the town where he was tended too by a Portuguese doctor that had seen this progressive withering of a man before, and set to putting Jacob on a program of hydration on a salt and sugar solution that would help to restore him to health.

At the doctors insistence Jacob was admitted to a hospital bed where he would spend a few days building his strength and recuperating before he’d be allowed to venture into the African wilderness. He was beside himself, convinced that the company would dismiss him for his failure to maintain his health on the voyage. It was only when Mr Norman, a representative of the Cleveland Bridge Company management had visited him with express instructions to rest and get well that he’d finally accepted his fate.

It was arranged that on his release from Hospital Jacob would report to the British Counsel offices in Beira who would place him on the next train through to Salisbury, where he would be met by a member of the British Counsel in Rhodesia. Passage through to Victoria Falls would then be organised at the earliest possible opportunity where he would once more join his colleagues and take up his responsibilities as normal.

What had completely surprised everyone was Philippe’s stubborn insistence that he was to remain with Jacob. He blatantly refused to travel with his family and had got into a heated exchange with his father about his responsibilities to his family and his loyalty to his friend. Even when Jacob had asked him to go with his family to prevent further disruption, Philippe had stubbornly refused.

“We are companions come what may Jake,” Philippe had insisted. “I am not going to just abandon you now some fancy man in a white apron is in charge of your care. You cannot be left here on your own, I will not accept it. And on top of that, we agreed that we would look on the magnificent waters of the Victoria Falls together. Have you forgotten this promise already?”

Philippe was unrelenting, using every advantage he could muster to persuade, intimidate and bully those around him into seeing things his way. It was finally the boy’s mother that gave in and softened to his deep rooted desire to remain loyal to Jacob. As a family they agreed that Philippe could remain with Jacob when a sister from the hospital ward had offered to watch over the boys and ensure their safety while in Beira. On the strict understanding that neither boy would venture into the town or wonder off of the train alone, permission was granted.

Jacob was ecstatic, his spirits significantly lifted at the news that he would not be remaining behind alone. For ten days the boys were confined to the walls around the mission hospital. They spent much time wondering around the garden, talking about their lives, discussing matters of opinion and learning to play chess. Philippe’s sharp, analytical mind had quickly mastered the game much to Jacob’s frustration.

The days passed, and in the time they spent together, Jacob was constantly reminded of the beauty of the boy beside him. He’d come to appreciate that it was not just his good looks that completed the boy so, it was also his mild manner, his quiet companionship, his fierce loyalty. So much about this boy was just perfect, and regardless of what his mind told him was right or wrong, he felt that it was more than just friendship he felt for Philippe.

On the 12^th September 1904, both boys were met at the front gate of the hospital by a horse and trap with an envoy from the British Consulate with instruction to escort the boys to the station and safely see them onto the train bound for Bulawayo. In Salisbury the duo would be met by Douglas Fleming a young attaché from the British Counsel in Rhodesia, and he would travel with the boys on to Bulawayo where he’d secure safe passage for them to Victoria Falls.

As the boys sat in their carriage on board the Beira Railways train bound for Rhodesia they marvelled at the power of the locomotive and the speed at which they were travelling. At the head of the carriages was a state of the art Lawley Falcon 233 manufactured by the Falcon Engine and Car Works of Loughborough in England. Engine number six was pulling all eleven cars the four hundred miles to Bulawayo.

As the locomotive ate into the miles, the train steamed through huge expanses of African savannah. Great open plains of yellow grass, swaying listlessly in the heat as the sun baked down on the earth. If you’ve ever seen the savannah in summer as your speeding past it, you’ll find it takes on a golden hue, shinning brightly under the glare of the constant sun. As Jacob gazed out of the windows he reflected quietly to himself that this must have been what they meant when they had coined the phrase “in fields of gold”, for at that very moment, that is what they were doing. Accompanied by the steady rhythm of the steam locomotive and the clickity clack of the wheels passing over the rails, two young men whose lives had been woven together sliced their way onwards through magnificent fields of gold.